1. Give her the lingerie of a deceased female relative.

   Girls love to feel sexy, and nothing makes them feel sexier than slutty underwear. And this way, it’s free. So pay a visit to your grandfather—you really should visit him more often, anyway—and ask him if grandma left any sexy girdles or corsets lying around. Make sure she didn’t die of a contagious disease, though, because girdles are absolute hotbeds for bacteria. And if grandma asked to be buried with all of her sexy underwear, then proceed to the houses of deceased aunts and godmothers and, if necessary, cross-dressing uncles. Don’t worry, you’ll find something. And when you finally give the underwear to your girlfriend, tell her it’s a hot new retro line put out by a little-known Victoria’s Secret subsidiary, and try not to mention that Nana Mabel died in them.

2. Give her a coupon book.

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   This is the gift that keeps on giving. Giving her 10% off at overpriced local businesses. She’ll be so happy clipping and organizing her coupons that she won’t even notice most of them are for stores, like “Carlos’s House of VCR Equipment,” she’ll never set foot in. Just make sure to remove all the restaurant coupons before you give it to her, or else you might be roped into paying 90% of a bunch of crappy, still-too-expensive meals.

3. Write her a poem.

   This will bring her to joyous tears, and it won’t cost you a penny. And don’t worry if you’re not much of a writer—just use this template I came up with. All you have to do is put your girlfriend’s name in all the blanks. If you’re not sure how to spell your girlfriend’s name, then you can just use a nickname, like “Champ” or “Bertrand.”

   An Olde-Fashioned Ode to ______
   Your face is like the galaxy,
   Your eyes are like the sun.
   I know your mom has epilepsy,
   Which is the biggest shame under the sun.
    
   Happy anniversary, ______!

   I couldn’t think of too many words that rhymed with “galaxy,” so hopefully your girlfriend’s mom has epilepsy. If she doesn’t, you could maybe go for a slant rhyme with something like “phalanx” or “parity,” or “parody.” And if your girlfriend says she doesn’t get this poem, or she doesn’t like it, then sorry pal, but your girlfriend doesn’t know shit about poetry.

4. Give her an “autographed” piece of memorabilia.

   Except instead of Brad Pitt signing a glossy 8 X 10 of Brad Pitt, you’ll be signing Brad Pitt’s name on a photo you found on a quick Google image search. This way, the autograph can have a more personal message, too, such as, “Congrats on your anniversary. That boyfriend of yours is one hell of a guy!” She might wonder how Brad Pitt knew it was her anniversary or how he knew—or rather, believed—you were one hell of a guy, but you can tell her he must’ve just seen it on your twitter page or something.

5. Make her a photo album.

   Just by a cheap three-ring binder, print out a shitload of her Facebook pictures—in most of which neither you nor she appears—write “Memories” on the cover of the binder in Sharpie, and voila—you now have a collection of grainy, shitty images that commemorate all the times you didn’t spend together. She’ll cherish it forever.

6. Cook her a nice meal.

   And when I say cook her a nice meal, I mean give her leftovers from a nice meal that you didn’t cook. So go to your parent’s house the night before you have your girlfriend over, where your mom can cook you a nice meal, take home the leftovers, and then offer them to your girlfriend the following night as if you had just made them. To really give the appearance of having just made a meal, put on an apron, smear some raspberry jelly on it so that it doesn’t look suspiciously pristine, and take out some pots and pans, which you can put in the sink and fill with soapy water. She’ll never suspect that all you did was microwave the food, or that you had to call your mom to see how long you should microwave it for.

7. Give her perfume.

   But not any of that expensive name-brand crap. No, you can make her a perfume that smells twice as good as those and costs only pennies. Here is my standard perfume recipe, though you are certainly free to tinker with it:

   • 4 oz. water
   • dash of oregano
   • 2 dashes of basil
   • 3 and a half sprays of Cherry Binaca

   This will make her smell like a delicious roasted chicken crossed with, well, Cherry Binaca. You should probably put your homemade concoction in an old perfume bottle from your mom, though, because for some reason, girls aren’t crazy about using perfume that comes in an old milk carton.

8. Give her advice.

   Because you can’t put a price on wisdom. So pass along every bit of advice you’ve ever heard, good or bad—home remedies for the flu, ways to relieve menstrual cramps through dance, why you should or should not make the switch to Blu-Ray. She’s not going to like this gift, I’m not gonna lie to you, but she might just not break up with you, that is, if you skillfully advise her not to.

9. Give her a reprieve from your sexual advances.

   And put it in writing. “This certificate entitles its bearer to three weeks without being subjected to my sad erotic fumbling.” At first, she’ll probably pretend this is something she’d never want—“Oh honey,” she’ll say, “I love our lovemaking. Really. It’s so… unique. So different.” Yes, different like a hideously malformed child is simply different from the other kids.

   And despite what she says, your girlfriend will be deeply grateful for this gift. She’ll probably ask for it again next year. And really, it’s great for you, too. Three weeks with no performance anxiety, no shame—or no shame relating to sex, at least—and a not visibly dissatisfied girlfriend. What could be better.

10. Give her a good luck charm.   

    This can be pretty much any old piece of junk—an old golf ball, a ratty dish rag, a rotten banana peel. All you have to do is invent a backstory for the worthless item that gives it some historical significance.

    Say, for example, that the dish rag was given to your grandfather at a very stressful time of his life by a mysterious gypsy. You see, he—your grandfather, not the gypsy—was studying day and night for the civil service exam, which he wanted to pass more than anything in the whole world. “Someday,” he would say proudly to your father, “I will be a civil servant!” He was so nervous about the test, though, that he started to have awful bouts of diarrhea. He was on the toilet for hours a day, in complete agony, wiping sweat from his sallow face with the gypsy rag, and he began to fear he might not be well enough to take the exam. But the day of the test came, and miraculously, he recovered. He walked to the town hall, took the exam—he was the first one to finish in the whole group, as he was wont to brag throughout the rest of his life—and returned home, where his family had organized a wonderful celebratory party.

    Unfortunately, he didn’t pass the test, and he never became a civil servant. But from that day on, your grandfather always considered the gypsy’s dish rag a good luck charm. Because even if he didn’t pass the test, he did stop shitting his brains out on the day of the exam. And that, in his eyes, was damn good luck.

Now tell me—what girl wouldn’t clamor for such an object?